


Sweet and Spicy

by Ravvi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Blow Job, Drugging, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Other, Physical Abuse, Psychological Manipulation, Sexual Harrassment, Slave Trafficking, Undertail, implied child slavery, more warnings at head of chapters, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravvi/pseuds/Ravvi
Summary: Based off Amortem-Kun'salternate streetfell universes.Fellswap Pap is a slave trafficker, and Black's decided to teach him why slave trafficking is a really stupid idea.Commissioned by Askellie.(goddammit A03, let me embed links.  Fine, here's the reference: https://amortem-kun.tumblr.com/post/165596718980/soloshikigami-mercy-run-amortem-kun-hope)





	1. Your Order Has Been Placed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slim does a job and Black strongly objects to the morality of said job.
> 
> Warnings are all in the header for the fic, stay safe.

Slim leaned against a stone pier, rolling his shoulders to settle himself against the barnacle-encrusted surface.  The calming sound of low-tide waves nearly drowned out the quiet whimpers coming from a waist-high packing crate sitting in the sand nearby.  Not quite though.

“Shut the fuck up,” one of the dogs finally snarled, giving the wood siding a sharp kick.  The muffled sobbing cut off with a terrified squeak, then stopped entirely.  Calmly, Slim took out a pair of earbuds and pushed them into his acoustic meatus.  Heavy rock music poured through the silicone earpieces, cutting off anything else he might have heard from the dogs or the package.  This wasn’t the first time that the Man Who Spoke in Hands had volun-told him to provide backup on a deal, but he still hated this part of the job.  Kids were kids, even if the human gutter rats they scraped off the streets were better off as slaves than unwanted scum on La’Karta’s streets.  The city didn't give a shit about its orphans, and that made them a tempting and lucrative target.  There was always somebody willing to pay for a human soul, and they didn't always care that its owner was a child.  Or still alive.

Another few minutes passed.  One of the dog monsters lit up a cigarette, then cheekily blew a lungful of smoke into her counterpart’s face.  The other snatched it away, took a long drag, then exhaled the smoke with a relieved sigh.  Slim closed his eyes and looked out into the harbour, tongue half-formed as the sight made saliva pool in his mouth.  Quitting was such a bitch when nobody else did it with you.

Fifteen minutes trickled by.  The dogs were pacing restlessly now, bickering half-heartedly to each other.  Slim tuned it out.  Their contact was late, but that was hardly uncommon in this line of work.  Wasn’t like this part of the docks were easy to get to.  Or find.

Slim had just started to nod off when the smell of burnt sugar and chocolate wafted forward, throwing a nauseatingly sweet note into the tobacco, brine and dead fish coming off the water.  Slim tore his earbuds out, then pressed his spine a little harder to the pier with an irritated scowl.  Oh god, it was _him?_   Goddammit, no wonder The Man had been so insistent that he take this stupid job.  Fucking bastard…

“Do my weary eyes deceive me?  My dear _,_ it has been FAR too long!”

Slim stared sullenly as a gaslight-blue fire elemental ducked through a gap in the chain-link fence surrounding the pier and began picking his way down to the beach.  The lurid, purple rain-boots he was wearing steamed whenever they touched a puddle, leaving bone-dry footprints in the sand.

“Not even a hello for me?  After all this time we’ve spent apart?  I came all the way out to La’Karta just for you, you know,” Swirlby pouted.  Without looking away, he set a fist-sized ball of fire on top of the crate.  The ball wiggled, grew a pair of arms and a tiny head, then looked around its damp surroundings with open distaste.  After an appropriately long moment of disdain, it opened it jaws and took a huge bite out of the wood at its feet.  The material yielded with a curl of smoke, leaving a small, charred hole behind.  Crackling happily to itself, the little creature dissolved into a puddle of liquid fire and dribbled down the hole. 

“AAAaahhh?”  The package screamed, trailing off uncertainly as the fireling began to coo at it in a soothing tone.

“You’re late,” one of the dogs growled petulantly.

Swirlby ignored him and continued walking forward until he was _definitely_ impinging on Slim’s personal space. 

“Ran into some law enforcement.  I assumed you’d be happy that I spent a little time and…lost them,” he murmured softly.

“Cops?  You sure you lost ‘em?!”  The other dog asked, whipping her head around as though expecting black-uniformed police officers to start leaping out of the ocean.

“Very sure,” Swirlby chuckled, looking directly at Slim with a coy wink.  “I wouldn’t _dream_ of having them interrupt us.”

The fireling made a sharp, popping sound, like fire burning through punky wood.

“If you’re bored, verify that my purchase is healthy,” Swirlby called back, then gave Slim an exaggerated pout.  “I still need my hello from Mr. Tall, Silent, and Handsome, after all.”

“Hello,” Slim said neutrally.  Swirlby giggled, and sparks exploded behind his eyes like miniature fireworks. 

“So stoic!  One of these days, I really must call in the favour that The Man owes me.  See if he can arrange a more…private meeting,” he mused, coming a little closer.  Slim resisted the urge to duck behind the pier as the encroaching elemental’s flames licked hungrily at the air around his face, throwing dry heat across his cheekbones.

“I’m not a whore,” Slim growled, shrinking down into his jacket.

“My dear, I wouldn't dream of debasing you with such a term,” Swirlby began.  The fireling in the box made an irritated croaking sound, and the elemental looked away with a deep sigh.  “But alas, our time is short and I shall be patient. Until we meet again, sugar.  Send The Man my thanks, won’t you?”

Slim couldn’t help flinching as a little wisp of flame broke free of Swirlby’s corona and brushed across his cheek like a dry kiss.

“Better make it fast, hot stuff, tide’s coming in” one of the dogs chortled. 

“Somebody’s already wet though,” the other snickered, eyes fixed meaningfully at Slim’s glowing, purple cheekbones.

“Shut up,” Slim growled, burying his face in the ruff of his hood as the dogs guffawed.  Swirlby gave him a smug look, then dropped several more firelings around the crate.  The little creatures sprouted ember-red claws, then dug them into the wood and lifted the crate into the air.  Carefully, they floated it thirty feet straight up, then over onto the dock above the beach, heading back toward the parking lot near the entrance of the harbour.

“ _Adieu, mon cher_ ,” Swirlby called, following after his firelings on foot.  One of the dogs began making sloppy, kissing noises in Slim’s direction, then broke off with a snicker when Slim angrily pushed away from the pier and began stalking up the hill.

“Ohhhhh, ‘Mr. Hard to Get’ over here!” the other monster snickered, stepping out of his way.  “Bet he could show you a real hot time, bone boy.”

“Fuck off,” Slim snapped, reflecting irritably that puns were much less funny when you were on the receiving end…

A flash of black and red flitted across the corner of his eye.  Slim whirled to the side, throwing out a hand.  The dogi went flying out into the water with twin, shrieked howls, leaving him alone with a single, black-uniformed police officer.

“You said you LOST them,” Slim yelled up at the dock, not taking his eyes off the small, predatory form slinking forward from the shadows. 

“He certainly thought he did,” the officer said in a low, angry tone.  “Most of my squad needed to be air-lifted to the hospital.  Fucking humans.”

The officer stepped out into the light.  Slim started, staring down at him in shock.  A skeleton?  He hadn’t realized that La’Karta even _allowed_ monsters onto the police force.  Most places didn’t.

“I am Chief Inspector Black, and you are under arrest.  Where is the child?” the cop demanded, making it look like he was sneering down at Slim despite the fact that he was ridiculously short.  Slim gave him a dark smirk, trying to decide whether this guy was stupidly arrogant, or just plain stupid.  Cops should know better than to run around outside of La'Karta's center where they weren't welcome, especially when they were fun-sized...

“Child?  What, you mean, like, a human?” Slim asked blithely, dipping one hand in his pocket to hide its glow as he prepared an attack.  “I ain’t seen no humans around here-“

“Hands where I can see them!”

Something smacked into the back of his head.  Slim yelped in surprise, then threw out his arm.  A wave of bones tore through the sand and swept toward the officer who…

Vanished?!

A cold, heavy pressure squeezed down on Slim’s soul and hurled him into one of the piers.  He just managed to get his arms up before he smashed into it, bruising his radii instead of breaking his ribs.  Wheezing, he twisted in midair, summoned a blaster, and fired it blindly beneath him.  The blue magic cut off, and Slim dropped heavily into the sand.  He groaned, pushed himself onto to his knees, then dropped with a pained cry as something slammed into the small of his back.

“Go ahead,” the officer breathed, pressing something cold and hard against the back of his skull.  Slim’s marrow froze when he heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked.  “Give me an excuse.” 

Slim quickly went limp, panting heavily and glaring down into the sand.  Fine.  God, this would be embarrassing, but The Man could get him out of whatever court system this fuckwad of a cop decided to drop him into.  The only real crime in La’Karta was being poor.  A few bribes to the right people, and it’d be like he’d never been caught at all.

“All right…all right, you win,” Slim panted.  “Take it easy with the ‘piece, all right?  I’m a Capitol citizen.”

Black jerked Slim's hands behind his back and cinched a pair of handcuffs down around his carpals.  The cold metal pinched down against the tender cartilage padding his wrist joint, stifling the vague hope that he’d be able to slip out of the restraints.

“Capitol citizen huh?  How wonderful for you.  Where’s your ID?” Black asked coldly, patting through his pockets. 

“Left hip,” Slim grimaced, shifting uncomfortably when the inquisitive hands began to get overly friendly with his floating ribs before dipping into his pocket.

“Aww, how cute.  Wonder how much this cost you?” Black sneered, pulling out his wallet.  Slim heard a splash and twisted underneath his captor, looking out at the water with a startled expression. 

“Did you just throw my fucking wallet…”

“Shut up.”

Slim yelped in surprise as something forced his face down into the sand.

“I’ve got half a mind to dust you right here, _slave dealer,_ ” Black spat, grinding his knee painfully into Slim’s lumbar vertebrae.  “Save myself the headache of having to listen to a bribed judge find some fucking technicality to get you off on.”

The words were sharp and bitter, but the hands palming his ribs had become a lot less inquisitive and much more…deliberate. 

“H-HEY!”  Slim spluttered, squirming when a hand casually pushed up under the hem of his jacket and began groping along the length of his spine.  “Fuck off-“

The cop laughed and squeezed harder, making uncomfortable heat ripple across Slim’s pelvic girdle.  “Or maybe I’ll just give myself a little reward for catching you, since the court’s not going to oblige."

Slim shuddered as the tip of one finger began to play with the waistband of his pants, tugging the material away from his ilium and letting cool, damp air creep over his sacrum.

“No one here but me and your pretty little ass.  I saw the way that elemental was looking at you.  Does he know something I don’t?”

Harder than he knew he could, Slim twisted to one side and tossed the officer off his back.  Scared out of his mind and deeply unnerved, he lunged to his feet, sprinting for the gap in the chain-link fence.  Swirlby couldn’t have finished leaving yet, and that pervy elemental was better than this psycho of a cop-

With a loud ‘pop,’ Black appeared in front of the gap.  Slim skidded to a halt, tripping and falling on his tailbone as he tried to throw his cuffed hands out for balance.  Scrambling backward, he hurled a wave of bones forward, then lunged to his feet and sprinted toward the ocean.  Black appeared in front of him again, eyelights glowing a bright, manic violet as he watched Slim skid to a halt.  Holy fuck, the little bastard was _enjoying_ this.

Black darted forward, snapping out a baton.  Slim lurched backward, grunting as the steel rod slammed into his shoulder.  Blindly, he backed away, yelping in pain and growing alarm as heavy, thudding strikes rained down on his ribs, femurs, humeri...

“You want to keep resisting arrest, slave dealer?” Black growled, throwing a particularly vicious blow across his face.  Slim cried out and dropped to his knees, landing against the chain-link fence with a loud rattle.  “Or do you just like getting the shit beat out of you?”

A hand squeezed down around his cervical vertebrae and pushed his head back into the fence.  Expression cold, Black shoved the baton between his teeth like a bit, then drew it out.  The taste of copper and salt flooded his mouth, and Slim numbly realized that Black had just wiped his own marrow off onto his own teeth.

“Now you’d better start giving me a reason to keep you alive,” the cop purred gently.  Slim flinched, shivering uncertainly as Black reached forward and lightly stroked his bruised cheekbone.  “Because from where I’m standing, it’d be a hell of a lot more fun to just keep whipping your disobedient ass.”

“F-fine,” Slim spat, jerking his face away.  “Whatever, just get on with it.”

“Look at that, you can be reasoned with,” Black cooed, pressing his baton insistently against Slim’s chin.  “Open up.”

Slim made a small, angry sound and reluctantly parted his teeth, fully expecting Black to whip something phallic out of his pants and get to work.  Instead, Black leaned forward, hooked his fingertips behind his mandible, and kissed him deeply. 

“Mmnph?!” Slim protested, trying to pull away.  The back of his head immediately ran into the fence and Black pressed in, holding his head snugly in place.  Trapped, face stinging and body aching, Slim collapsed in on himself, trembling a little as the cop's tongue began to probe along the floor of his jaw.  The contact tingled warmly, stimulating the magic pooled behind his teeth until his tongue coalesced and filled his mouth.   Black immediately smothered it, pushing so deeply and aggressively against the construct that it almost hurt.

“Mnnhhh,” Slim heard himself whimper, face burning as Black finally broke the kiss.  He cringed when he heard a belt-buckle jingle, followed by the rustle of cloth being pulled back.

“Not getting reluctant now, are you?” Black chuckled, pulling a violet, humanesque cock out of his pants.  Without waiting for Slim to respond, he gave it a few strokes, then casually pressed the tip between his teeth.  Slim recoiled, freezing in place as he debated whether he REALLY wanted to do this, or just bite down and accept whatever consequences ~~death~~ decided to follow.

“And you were doing so well,” Black sighed, then violently wedged his thumbs between Slim's molars, and thrust deeply into his mouth.  Slim gagged, hands scrabbling desperately at the fence as Black began to rut forcefully against his tongue, choking on each, punishing stroke.

“Still want to do it this way?” Black demanded, pulling out and letting him cough and splutter.  Slim closed his eyes and unsteadily shook his head. 

“Start working then.”

With a small, angry groan, Slim leaned forward and gingerly licked the tip of Black’s cock.  The taste of salt and something vaguely spicy spread over his tongue as precum oozed from the construct.  He shuddered, then folded his mouth around it.

“Much better,” Black sighed, pressing a hand against the back of his head as Slim began to suckle and lap at the construct.  Slim closed his eyes, forcing down his growing self-disgust as he carefully used his tongue to cover his teeth and bobbed lightly along the shaft.  This wasn’t the first time he’d been on the wrong end of a blowjob, but he’d never had to do this for another monster before.  Thankfully though, Black seemed to be sensitive around the underside of the head and right on the slit, like most humans.  This wouldn’t take long-

Slim retched as Black’s hand tightened on the back of his head, and startlingly hot cum spurted into his mouth.  Absolutely disgusted and sickeningly degraded, he jerked his face to the side and spat, feeling the substance coat the back of his teeth and dribble slimily down his chin.  Holy fuck, it was _sticky?_

“How skillful.  I do believe you’ve done that before,” Black purred, fingertips stroking the back of his head.  Slim panted resentfully, then flinched when Black grabbed the hood of his jacket and wiped his chin off with it.  “All right.  Back to my car.  You’ve got an appointment with a booking officer, and if you’re good, I won’t tell him about your talented tongue.”

Slim seethed, silently resolving to kill _Chief Inspector Black_ the second he got free, even if he had to call in every fucking favour he was owed to make it happen.


	2. Taking Out The Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slim gets very hot and Black is a jerk.
> 
> Warnings for abuse of authority, non-con, non-consensual discipline/reinforcement, degradation, frottage, bondage, handcuffs, kidnapping, drugging, and physical abuse.

The backseat of the cop’s cruiser was formed from a single piece of hard, black plastic.  There was a smooth-edged dip between the seat and the backrest to accommodate people with their hands cuffed behind their backs, and no seatbelts.  It also smelled startlingly nice.  Slim had been arrested…three or four times now?  His most prominent memory from each of those times was holding his breath so that sour, ammoniac fug of various human fluids wouldn’t make him gag.  But Black’s car actually didn’t smell like much.  Maybe bleach?  It wasn’t very strong, and Slim was begrudgingly grateful for that as they began the long drive back to La’Karta. 

An hour passed.  Occasionally, the cruiser's radio would crackle to life and report an incident, but otherwise it was silent.  The early-morning sun streamed continuously through the windows, baking the seat and rapidly heating up the cab.  After some internal debate, Slim finally scooted as far to the shaded side of the car as he could and leaned against the windowpane.  He stayed there for a moment, savouring the cool feel of glass against his cheekbone, then shifted in the handcuffs with an unhappy sigh.  Man, it was hot.  Maybe he could…he glanced uncertainly down at his jacket, then looked up in the rearview mirror.  Black’s eyes flicked upward, expression neutral and slightly amused.  Slim shivered and pressed his legs tightly together, trying not to focus on the musky taste still lingering on his tongue.

Another half-hour passed.  Slim saw Black reach for the air-conditioning controls on the dashboard, hesitate, then fiddle with the settings.  After a second, he cursed and glanced up in the rearview mirror.  This time, he looked angry.

“Got something you want to say, slave dealer?”

Slim dabbed his sweaty, aching face on the shoulder of his jacket, then turned away.  Fucking hell.  If the AC was broken, couldn’t Black just crack open a window?  Even getting a little airflow back here would make it so much more bearable.

They pulled onto the freeway and immediately hit morning rush-hour traffic.  Officer Black slammed on the brakes as his cruiser was gridlocked into a creeping mass of cars, then cursed softly.  A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, and he irritably wiped it away.  Slim turned away before Black could see that he’d noticed.  Huh.  Maybe there WAS something wrong with the windows.  Slim wouldn’t put it past La’Karta’s city council to give their police officers barely-functional cars.  Especially if those police officers just happened to be monsters.

They crept along, inch by aggravating inch.  God _damn_ , it was hot.  Slim’s jeans and undershirt quickly soaked through with sweat, sticking to his bones and making his scraped-up forearms sting.  Awkwardly, he shoved his jacket as far down his arms as it could go and pressed his face against the now-warm windowpane, panting lightly.  Pants and shoes too?  He was wearing boxers, so it wouldn’t be indecent, but…

Slim glanced up in the rearview mirror, swallowing painfully around his dry, sore throat.  Sure enough, Black was looking at him with that silent, hungry expression, like he was just daring him to make a move. 

The pants and shoes stayed on.  Another hour passed.  Very.  Very.  Slowly…

Black cut over into the exit lane as five or six other cars all got off the freeway.  They zoomed forward fifty feet or so, then came to a screeching halt behind a sea of red taillights.  The abrupt stop jolted Slim forward, then roughly tossed him back against the seat.  He re-settled himself with a grimace, feeling his femurs slip in the growing puddle of sweat under his legs.  His mouth had long since passed the ‘parched’ stage, and his throat felt swollen and achingly dry.  It reminded him of a time he’d gotten trapped in Hotland as a child, and had almost passed out before managing to crawl back to the river.  The water had been warm and foul with garbage, but it had tasted so, ridiculously good.

“Fuck this,” Black finally growled, putting on his lights and sirens.  The cars around them parted grudgingly, letting them pull over onto an off-ramp and drive down into the south-east part of the city.

Feeling a little delirious, Slim watched the mess of peeling apartment buildings, empty lots, and concrete detritus pass by.  La’Karta had started off as a fishing village, and then exploded into a shipping hub over the past ten years.  The southeast section was full of leftovers from the initial expansion, and had consequentially become the slum of a slum.  Good place to do business, but only because cops didn’t hang around after dark, and nobody was fussy about how your goods were obtained.  As long as the coin was legitimate, you could buy or sell anything.

Black pulled in front of a grimy convenience store, then shut off the engine.

“Wait here and behave,” he growled, then got out of the car and slammed the door.

“Fuck you, and fuck your broken-ass car,” Slim groaned, giving the grille a frustrated kick.  The tiny breath of cool air that had come into the car with the door opening was already gone, but _holy fuck_ it had felt _amazing_. 

Black was probably only gone for a few minutes.  It was still long enough that Slim grimly decided that this was what being smothered in hell must feel like.

“Looks like today’s your lucky day,” Black sighed, tossing a plastic bag onto the front seat.  Slim eyed it suspiciously as Black started the engine and pulled into a shaded alley beside a rusted-out QuikMart.  “We won’t be going anywhere for a few hours, so I get to babysit your worthless ass until traffic clears up.”

Resentfully, ~~and more than a little longingly~~ , Slim watched Black pull a water bottle out of the bag, crack open the top, and drink half of the contents in one, long pull.  He sighed deeply, set it aside, then teasingly held up a fresh bottle.  “If I come back there and give you this, what’s gonna happen?”

Slim glared at the water bottle, then glowered down at his feet.  “Nothing,” he mumbled.

“It’s ‘officer,’ or ‘sir,’ to you, slave dealer,” Black growled warningly.

“Nothing officer,” Slim repeated, struggling to keep his tone even.

“All right then.”

Black stepped outside, then opened the side door.  Slim couldn’t help the relieved sigh when fresh air curled around his bones and cooled his sweaty clothes, leaving him feeling refreshed and intensely relieved.

“Sit back,” Black snapped when Slim began to turn so the handcuffs could be taken off.  Slim paused, watching uncomprehendingly as Black cracked the top off the bottle.  “Good.  Now hold still.”

“Wha-pffth?!” Slim gasped, flinching away as Black dumped the water over his head.  It was shockingly cold against his overheated body, and his scramble to get away left him sprawled halfway across the backseat.

“What the hell is so difficult about the command ‘hold still?!’,” Black demanded, making a sharp gesture.

“Hey!” Slim yelped as his soul turned blue and he was dragged upright.

“You promised me that nothing was going to happen, slave dealer,” Black growled, hand surrounded by a corona of rich, dark cyan that was laced with flickers of night-black.  “This is most certainly not nothing.  Do you want this or not?”

“Yeah but not fucking ON me,” Slim spluttered, fumbling at the seat behind him for purchase.

“I am GETTING to that part.  Now, you can thank me for being considerate of your insignificant needs, and I will proceed.”

“T-thank…?”  Slim scowled cautiously at Black, weighing his options.  This cop definitely was the type to get on a power trip and throw his weight around, so this wasn’t a joke.  And if Slim told him to fuck off and spit in his face, he’d probably just close the door and let him bake, but...

“Sometime today, slave dealer, unless you’d rather die of dehydration.”

“Thank.  You,” Slim growled through gritted teeth.

“Much better.  Now hold still.”

Slim made a small, frustrated sound and forced himself to stay motionless as Black took a step forward. 

“Mnff,” Slim flinched when Black wrapped a hand around the back of his head, then held the bottle to his teeth and tipped it forward.  A small, rebellious part of him resented being given water like a child who couldn’t be trusted to hold the bottle.  The rest of him was so, goddamn thirsty that all he cared about were the wet, and freshly accessible contents of the bottle. 

“Mmngk-“  he swallowed heavily, then managed the next few swallows silently.  The water was cold enough to make his teeth ache and tasted like plastic, but he kept drinking, savouring the cool relief as his throat was soothed and that _taste_ was finally washed away.

“Good boy,” Black purred, dropping the blue magic and watching him drink with thinly-veiled interest.  “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

Slim fumed, gasping through his nose as Black kept the bottle pressed to his mouth.  The rapid change from hot to cold wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was making him feel a little tingly and achy, like brainfreeze in his chest…

“You’re not the brightest monster though, are you?” Black sighed as Slim finished off the water and turned his head away with a grimace.  “After a lifetime on these streets, you should know better than to accept drinks from strangers.”

Accept drinks from…

Oh.

Oh shit.

Slim instinctively lurched forward, trying to throw himself out of the car.  Black easily caught him around the shoulders and shoved him back onto the seat.

“Nngh!  What the fuck?!”  Slim gasped, struggling up onto his elbows.  Black leered down at him, face splitting into two images that swam across each other like an out-of-focus camera.  “What…what did you give me?  W-why…I thought…” Slim spluttered, mentally cursing himself.  Stupid.  So, fucking stupid and _careless_ and-

“Why?  Do you truly want an answer to that question, _slave dealer?_ ”

Slim cried out as Black grabbed his ankle and yanked him forward across the seat, dragging his cuffed wrists painfully across the plastic.  Frantically, he kicked out, and felt his heel connect with something hard.  Both images of Black laughed cruelly, and his eyesockets ignited with purple fire.

“Oh please.  Did you really think I was going to turn you in?”  Black grinned, then reached down and grabbed his belt.  Slim bucked against the hand, then cried out when Black pulled him close, forcing his legs apart and grinding against his pelvic inlet so forcefully it burned.

“You don’t deserve freedom,” he breathed.   “And you certainly don’t deserve a trial.”

“AH!” Slim yelped as Black began to rut against him, forcing the fabric of his pants to bunch up around his hip joints.  Despite the rough treatment, his entire lower half was starting to tingle warmly, and wet slickness began to coat the inside of his pelvic girdle.

“As far as I’m concerned, your life was forfeit the moment you crossed my path.”

The images around him smeared into a series of incomprehensible blurs.  Black might have said something else, but sounds had started to twist around in his head, shifting in pitch, tone, and frequency.  Terrified and throbbing from the pressure building up inside his pelvis, Slim reeled, unable to process the hallucinations bombarding his mind.  His last clear thought was a giddy realization that Black was going to kill him, before the drugs stole the last of his coherency.

===

“Do you know what happened to the first slave dealer I arrested?” Black purred, pulling Slim’s semiconscious form out of the car.  Slim tensed and flailed weakly against his grip, fingers scrabbling ineffectively against Black’s forearms. 

“They stayed in jail for about a month, until the court finally came around to their trial,” Black continued, brushing Slim’s hands away and tipping his chin upward.  The slave dealer’s eyesockets were half-closed and fluttering uneasily over dim, hugely dilated eyelights.  Good.  He was completely under.

“Nnn…haaahhh…” Slim keened as Black removed the handcuffs and slipped the jacket off his arms.  Casually, he summoned a sharp-edged bone, then used it to split the collar of Slim's undershirt and tore the garment away.

“I was so excited,” Black chuckled, removing Slim’s shoes and socks, then tossing them casually into a nearby dumpster.  The khaki pants and boxer shorts were next, leaving the fine-boned skeleton lying stripped and insensate on the asphalt.  “I thought I had finally made a difference.  A small one perhaps, but even half a step in the right direction is progress.”

Curiously, Black nudged Slim’s legs aside, then skimmed his fingertips up the inside of his femurs and pressed them into the soft, wine-coloured magic coalescing over his pelvic inlet.

“Nnnnn,” Slim gasped, arching into the touch with a needy whine.  Black pulled away, feeling oddly warm and a little confused.  Rufis were intended to sedate and block memory.  They weren’t supposed to act like aphrodisiacs.

“In the end, they got away.  They’re probably still out there,” Black continued, staring down at Slim’s spread, exposed body with growing fascination.  “Just like you…”

Black trailed off, still staring down at the slave dealer.  Why was he…?  No.  He should kill this worthless piece of garbage.  Remove him from the equation.  He surely deserved no less, and the city would be better off without him clogging up the system…

“You…”  Black gently closed a hand around Slim’s cervical vertebrae, savouring the way the larger skeleton tensed and feebly tried to push him away. 

He should do it.

“Hrrk,” Slim choked, shivering helplessly as Black slowly began to squeeze.

He should, but something about this made him feel so…

“Hnnnn,” Slim whimpered, collapsing with a muffled clack as Black dropped him back onto the asphalt.

**Powerful.**

Impulsively, Black pressed the slave’s arms together, then threaded one end of the cuffs around his radii and snapped it closed. 

“Mmnnn-”  Slim moaned as Black threaded the other end of the cuff into the top of his pelvic inlet, then forced it through the unformed magic and out between his legs.

“Since your life is forfeit, it now belongs to me,” Black breathed, jerking Slim’s heels up close to his body, then fastening the open cuff around his fibulas. 

“Nnngh…ah…AH!”  Slim wailed, eyesockets flying open as pulled on his hands.  The motion drew the chain cruelly along the interior of his pelvic inlet and dragged his heels up to his body until they stopped, trapped painfully in place against his ischium. 

“I will draw every scrap of what you owe out of your worthless hide...”  Black began, then broke off with a scowl as Slim’s plaintive wailing grew louder and more horrified.  “Oh, for god’s sake.  I can’t have you making this much noise.”

Angrily, Black picked up the torn remnants of Slim’s shirt, then began packing it into the slave’s mouth, forcing his jaw open wide to accommodate the intrusion.

“ **MMMNG** , Mmmnph, _mnnnn_ , _nnn,_ ” Slim protested, cries growing weaker and more muffled as his mouth and throat were plugged up. 

“Much better,” Black snarled, then stood, walked back to his car, and pulled a roll of duct tape out of the glove box.  Behind him, Slim made a small, pained noise, wiggling back and forth in a futile attempt to free his hands and feet from their stringent tie.  Despite his apparent discomfort, violet fluid was dripping eagerly down his femurs and coating the chain passing through his pelvic inlet, leaving splatters on his sweat-drenched feet and hands.  It was almost like the sick fuck was enjoying this.

Firmly, Black lifted Slim’s head and secured the fabric in place with several, thick bands of duct tape.  Satisfied, he dropped him back onto the pavement, opened the trunk of his car, then frowned and glanced down at Slim’s wet femurs and dripping pelvic inlet.  Perhaps something to keep things clean was in order…

An empty, black trash bag sticking out from under the front seat caught his eye.  Grinning, Black picked it up and opened it with a few, sharp motions.  How fortunate.  And appropriate.

Slim trembled as Black stuffed him into the trash bag, then tied the top shut and shoved him into the trunk.  Slim might have cried out, but between the gag and the plastic, Black couldn’t hear it.

“Just like the piece of garbage you are,” Black chuckled, then slammed the lid of the trunk down.  Once back in the car, he flicked on the AC, opened a window and cranked the fan up to high with an appreciative sigh.  Baking the slave into compliance had been mildly unpleasant, but goodness, it had been effective.  The idiot hadn’t even questioned the drugged water.  It had been so easy…

And now he was taking him home.  The thought was heady and exhilarating, and somehow different from the other highs he’d had after simply killing the monsters he'd caught committing serious crimes.  It was warmer, more intense...

It felt good.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered to himself, then started up his car and began the long drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had some trouble figuring out Black's motivation here. Because he isn't insane - he just sees crime in the city very differently from how Slim does. He's got a lot of innate protectiveness, and instead of finding a person as it's focus (like UT Sans with Papyrus) he's sort of focused in on the city and his image of how it SHOULD be. That said, I don't think he's been a vigilante for very long, but he's definitely killed quite a few humans and monsters that he caught in the act of doing more serious crimes. Not quite long enough to be completely cold-blooded about it, but long enough that murder isn't all that far of a reach. Especially for a piece of garbage slave dealer.


	3. Optional Home Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black gets Slim right where he wants him.
> 
> Warnings for non-con, degradation, bone dislocation, non-consensual penetrative sex, forced orgasm, painful sex, unorthodox use of handcuffs, ecto-genitals, kidnapping, drugging/drugged sex and elements of smothering. Not a happy-fun-times fic, stay safe ^_^

It was so dark.

Slim groaned and canted his hips upward.  The pressure against the underside of his pubic symphysis eased a little, but the arched position quickly made his spine and femurs begin to shake with exhaustion.  He collapsed back onto the floor with a little moan, which was quickly cut off when a sheet of heavy plastic sucked itself down over his face. Weakly, he tried to lift an arm to clear it away.  A muffled clink and a corresponding rush of stinging heat across his pubic arch followed the attempt, keeping his hands firmly buried inside his pelvic girdle.

“Mnffff-“ he whimpered, letting his knees fall to one side.  The plastic loosened and he took a shallow breath, more out of instinct than a need for oxygen.  He was half conscious, but the awful pressure against his symphysis nagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.  Desperate, he began to rock his hips back and forth, plastic rustling loudly around his head and limbs so rubbery that every, tiny movement was a struggle.  Please, he just needed…just needed a little more…

Trembling and chest heaving breathlessly, he arched back in a last, frustrated attempt to get himself off.  He wasn’t aware enough to wonder what was going on, but a vague sense of fear, like the underpinning unease of a nightmare, was starting to push through his disjointed thoughts.  Something wasn’t right. He was supposed…he didn’t…he didn’t want…

Blearily, he tried to wiggle over onto his front, then yelped when his spine hit something overhead and dropped him back onto his side.  The movement jarred his pelvis, releasing a torrent of pain and burning pleasure so intense it almost felt like an orgasm. The pressure between his legs spiked, then settled with an awkward, uncomfortable tightness, like someone had looped a few, dozen rubber bands through his pelvic inlet and was pulling outward on them in all directions.

“Nnnghhh,” he moaned, probing clumsily at himself with his bound hands.  The tips of his phalanges quickly met a slick, spongy surface that throbbed and tingled when he touched it.  Ectoflesh? Why… his magic would sometimes form itself to protect his bones from damage or hold together a nasty break while it healed.  But this…had he broken his pelvis?

His fingertips brushed over a narrow slit in the center of the construct.  Gingerly, he slipped a finger inside, hissing through the gag when the intrusion made his pseudo-flesh burn.  Gritting his teeth, he rotated his finger, then paused when it brushed up against a strange, insensitive hardness inside his body.  It almost felt like an attack, but what was one of his attacks doing…no, it couldn’t be. Even dazed and barely coherent, he could feel the object radiating a subtle and sadistic malice, the sort that inflicted pain without incurring lasting damage.  The Man Who Spoke in Hands was disturbingly good at that particular trick, but for better or worse, Slim had never had the stomach for it. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that this wasn’t his…

And then his fingers found the next link in the handcuff chain, and his soul began to pound when he realized what must have happened.

“Nnnnnngh!” he wailed, screwing his eyes shut and thrashing violently against the cuffs.  Adrenalized fear poured into his body, screaming at him to pull harder, harder  _ harder- _

A sharp pinch lanced through the bones near his ankles, and then an audible pop reverberated through his left foot, jarring his entire leg from knee to the last two toes on that foot.  His leg jerked forward, suddenly and bewilderingly freed. He froze, trying to process what had just happened. Then half of his foot went numb, and his ankle joint began to throb painfully.  Shocked and badly confused, he tried to pull his foot back toward himself, as though that might undo the damage. The plastic nudged his displaced fibula, making the normally fixed bone move  _ sideways  _ with a sickening grate of bone-on-bone before his magic caught the loose end and popped it back into place.  He arched backward in pain and horror, screaming into the gag for a long moment before he collapsed, sweat-drenched and trembling.

Shit, shit  _ shit- _

Carefully.  Very VERY carefully.  He tried to move his foot.

It hurt.  Fucking hell, it hurt, but it was just sore.  More like it had been sprained instead of literally wrenched apart.  He could deal with that. Sore was fine as long as it was still put together the way it was fucking supposed to be.

Tentatively, he moved his other leg, holding back a whimper when the motion dragged the chain across the inside of his sore passage.  He had a little more give now that his left leg was free. Not much, but it was better than nothing. It would be better…

Slim swallowed hard, tongue fighting beneath the gag as the fabric tried to push itself into his throat.  It would be better if he could do the same thing to his right leg. If he could get loose, then maybe he’d have a chance, hell, just  _ half _ a chance, for when Black came for him.  Cops didn’t drug people and wrap them in plastic.  This was serial killer shit, and he was going to die if he couldn’t get loose.  He HAD to get loose-

Trembling, pseudo-flesh burning and ankle throbbing, he ground his teeth and tried to pull on his other leg.  Weakness immediately set into his hip, knee, and wrists, involuntary self-preservation making it impossible for him to pull any harder.  With a thin cry, he fell still, curling forward until his forehead pressed against the inner wall of what was most likely a coffin. This was bad.  Jesus freak in a fucking handbasket, this was bad. Had Black already buried him? Left him for dead in some shallow grave so he wouldn’t have the extra LV on his hands?  Slim giggled hysterically to himself at the thought, tears running down his cheekbones as the attempt had him half-choking on the gag. God, he hoped a human was around to see if he managed to claw his way up out of the earth.  The cosmic humour would be priceless.

The surface he was lying on suddenly shifted.  Slim tumbled backward with a grunt, coming to rest against another hard surface with the plastic tightly corkscrewed around his free leg.  What the…

The inside of the box shifted around a few more times, then came to a jarring stop.  It was eerily silent for a long moment, and then something near his head made a loud, resonant click.  It was with an absurd amount of relief that Slim realized that he must have been in the trunk of a car, not a coffin.

And then cold dread washed over him when he heard Black chuckle and say, “Welcome home.”

===

 

There were advantages to old money.  Black’s father had disowned him after he’d joined the police force, but then two years later, the old fool had been murdered in what had doubtless been a botched, back-alley deal.  He hadn’t left a will, but Black was heir apparent, and La’Karta’s officials had been quite interested in making sure he collected his inheritance. The mandated taxes could only be taken if someone was inheriting, after all.  And so overnight, Black had gone from barely making ends meet to owning several properties, six thriving industrial businesses, and enough invested wealth that he could have retired on the spot. La’Karta took its cut of several million, which he assumed had been used to line a select few politicians’ pockets, and the rest had been passed over to him.

He had been two signatures and an ill-advised drink from donating the entire, blood-soaked fortune to charity.  It would have given him great pleasure to know that the old fool’s work had ultimately been parsed out to single-parent families and the poor that his fortune had been built on.  But ultimately, he had decided that he could do more good with it than the questionably run charities. After some badly-needed adjustments had been made, of course. 

To that end, he’d sold off the properties to well-vetted and trustworthy buyers.  He’d withdrawn and consolidated the accounts, then re-invested the money in more savoury ventures.  He’d dissolved the businesses and liquidated their assets, using most of the remaining capitol to ensure that the workers had enough to live on while they searched for new jobs.  It took months, but once his father’s immoral fingerprints had been completely lifted, the money finally felt clean enough to use.

And use it, he did.

The place he’d bought with his newly-scrubbed fortune was simultaneously his dream home and a deliberate middle finger to the city that only gave a damn when money was involved.  Ten acres of prie real-estate near La’Karta’s north-east quadrant, surrounded by box hedges that completely hid the property from view. The house itself was just two stories tall, and laughably spartan compared to the mansions flanking it on either side.  Black was certainly laughing. He had the privacy and simplicity of the country with all the convenience of the city so close at hand, and not developing it kept the property value and corresponding taxes scandalously low. His neighbours and the city property appraisers hated him.

 

Black pulled his cruiser past the gate and into the garage.  He calmly waited for the door to fold closed, then coyly ran a finger across the lid of the trunk.  His excitement and anticipation were growing, and he indulged the feelings with a cold smile. He really shouldn’t make a habit of bringing criminals home with him, but he couldn’t deny that this situation, with all the privacy, time, and options he could desire, was giving him one hell of a buzz.

It was a shame that it couldn’t be permanent.

“Welcome home,” he purred, popping the trunk open.

The trash bag had twisted around Slim’s body, outlining his form with delicious clarity.  It was immediately obvious when he froze in place, chest fluttering and body trembling with fear.  Casually, Black gathered up the bag, making absent, shushing noises when its occupant began making strained, muffled protests, and laid it out neatly on his workbench. 

“How was the ride?  Uncomfortable?” Black asked sweetly, tearing the plastic away.  Slim inhaled sharply the second his face was clear, coughing into the gag so hard that tears began to stream down his cheekbones.  Black patted the side of his face in mock sympathy, then caught his chin and tipped his face up into the light. Slim flinched, dilated eyelights darting all around the room before finally landing on Black’s face.  With a small, choked noise, he tried to pull away, but the movement was so graceless and jerky that Black’s hand didn’t even slip. Interesting. Looked a bit like he was drunk, but without the obnoxious smell.

“You’re going to have one hell of a headache in the morning.  If I let you live that long,” Black added casually. Slim made a thin, incoherent noise, recoiling as Black released his face and peeled the plastic away from his lower half.

“And what do we have here?”  Black whistled, taking in the mound of violet magic between Slim’s legs.  “You were struggling, weren’t you?”

“MMMM!” Slim cried with alarm as Black caught hold of his free foot and inspected the ankle joint.  Sure enough, the surrounding bones were a dark, ugly purple, and a thin, oozing fracture had split the head of his fibula.

“Oh, this is just precious.  Did you make this on purpose?” Black jeered, lifting up on Slim’s ankle to expose his crotch.  Smooth ectoflesh had completely encased the chain and filled out the space inside his pelvic girdle, leaving his bones largely bare from the outside.  Evident arousal had slicked his fingers and feet with glistening wetness, making Black glad that he’d thought to use the trash bag to keep his car clean.  Muffet had almost certainly slipped something extra into the rufis this time around. He’d have to have a little discussion with her about not taking liberties with his orders.  But for now…

Curiously, Black ran a thumb upward along the slit, grin darkening to a leer when Slim bucked roughly into his hands.

“No, you couldn’t control yourself, could you?  Little pain slut. I bet you like this,” Black breathed, unlocking Slim’s other foot and letting the open cuff dangle between his legs.  Slim trembled, weakly pressing his knees together without taking his eyes off of Black’s face. 

“Well?  Pull it out.  Shouldn’t be much harder than breaking your own ankle,” Black encouraged, giving the empty cuff a little jiggle.  Slim keened, writhing on the workbench with a deeply conflicted expression.

“Pathetic,” Black sighed, palming the front of his pants.  He’d been hard the entire drive home, and the sight of his slave like this…

So delightfully  _ helpless… _

“Well, if you’re just going to lie there...”

Black yanked the cuff downward, dragging Slim’s legs over the edge of the workbench.  Slim howled, thrashing against Black’s grip. He was strong and tall, and even drugged there was a strange grace to the way his slender body moved.  It was shockingly attractive, especially in his current, heavily compromised position.

“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous.  Hasn’t anybody made you their bitch yet?  Surely you’re useful for  _ something,” _  Black murmured, savouring the way Slim glared indignantly at him.  He was clearly in pain, but his pussy was glistening so invitingly that he was practically dripping on the concrete. 

“I bet that’s why that fucking elemental wanted you so bad,” Black said, impulsively unzipping his pants and pulling his cock free.  Panting softly, he pulled up on the chain, forcing Slim to tilt his hips upward with a delicious little yelp, then pushed the head of his cock underneath it.  Slowly, relishing Slim’s wail of protest, he slowly dragged him forward over the workbench. The chain rubbed over the top of his shaft, hot and astonishingly slippery.  Was it tight because Slim was small, or because the chain was taking up some of the room? Either way, it felt fucking amazing.

Black pulled back and thrust forward roughly.  Slim cried out and thrashed weakly beneath him, fingers trembling and tears streaming down his face.

“About time someone fucked you raw.  I bet you’ve wanted it…just… **like** … **THIS** …for a LONG time,” he gasped, digging his clawed fingertips into Slim’s femurs as he set a rapid, punishing pace.  Slim jolted underneath him, making noises that might have been sobs. Luckily for him, Black was so worked up that it didn’t take long for him to come, gushing sticky, purple ejaculate over his slave’s lower spine and slender floating ribs.

“You…feel pretty good…for a slut and a slave trader.  Looks like we’ve found something you’re good at.” Black panted, drinking in the sight of Slim spread out, debased and spattered with fluids.  The cuff still dangled between his legs, dripping with cum and utterly trapped in place. 

Or was it?

Black teasingly grabbed Slim’s cuffed hands, breath catching when Slim recoiled and looked up at him pleadingly.  “That’s right, slave trader. I’ve stretched you out. It should be able to fit now.”

Slim’s eyesockets widened with alarm when Black pulled on the chain, forcing the open cuff up against his abused, swollen entrance.

“What’s wrong?  Don’t you want this out of you?”

Slim somehow managed to give him a filthy, sarcastic look, even as he choked, hips and fingers twitching erratically.  Black all but shivered with delight and slowly dragged the cuff deeper, forcing Slim’s cunt to swallow up the awkward shape. 

“Oh, you can do it.  Just relax,” Black crooned, then nuzzled between Slim’s legs and pressed his tongue in alongside the chain.  Slim jerked, arching upward as Black licked experimentally along his folds until he found a small nub at their apex.  He laughed, and gave the spot a gentle flick.

“You made yourself a cute little clit and everything.  This really is what you’re good at,” he praised mockingly, then began to suck and nibble at the sensitive bud.  Slim’s yelps and sobs slowly deepened into plaintive moans, toes scrabbling at the legs of the workbench and spine arching into Black’s tongue.  It wasn’t long before his pussy began to twitch eagerly, relaxing around the cuff…

He came hard with a drawn-out moan of relief, then shrieked when Black abruptly yanked the cuff free. 

“There you go.  That wasn’t so bad, was it?”  Black purred as Slim closed his eyes and drew his knees up to his chest with a broken sob.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't seen many depictions of fellswap Grillby floating around, so why not make the poor guy a pervy slave dealer XD More to come on this, Black's not going to let his new perp get off THAT easily...
> 
> Also, I have no idea where La'Karta is supposed to be, the name just sounded kinda cool, so I ran with it.
> 
> Curious about commissions? More info here: https://ravvi-k.tumblr.com/post/167932441348/supportcommission


End file.
